


Whatever Fandral was Pouring

by Em_Jaye



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: 2019 ShieldShock Christmas Fic Exchange, Asgardian Liquor (Marvel), Awkward Sexual Situations, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Morning After, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: She grinned again. “I’m glad you decided not to bail,” she reached for her strawberry and took another tiny bite from the side before she continued. “Parties are a gamble. I always worry there’s not going to be a guy hanging out at the bar looking like he’d literally rather be jumping out of a plane but,” she swiped the edge of her thumb along her lower lip, capturing a drop of strawberry juice, “here you are! Party complete.”
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 46
Kudos: 322
Collections: 2019 ShieldShock Christmas Fic Exchange





	Whatever Fandral was Pouring

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlynnisIsta8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlynnisIsta8/gifts).



> My contribution to the 2019 Shieldshock gift exchange. Glynnis requested the following:
> 
> Holiday Party Hangover- Steve & Darcy wake up in bed together, naked, with no memory of what they did after they drank Asgardian ale at the party the night before. 
> 
> I knew I wouldn't be able to have it done for a Christmas Eve fic, so I hope NYE is all right. Love ya, lady! Hope you enjoy what I ended up with from your fun prompt!

_Ow_.

It was the first thought that registered when Steve awoke that morning. The first clear, conscious thought his brain decided to offer up as he lay in bed, trying to figure out exactly what hurt.

His head, mostly. There was a dull throbbing that seemed centered in the base of his skull and radiated toward his temples. But it wasn’t just his head, he realized, as his body caught up to his consciousness. It was the rest of him too. He felt drained. Sluggish. 

_Hangover._

His brain presented the second word of the day. It spun slowly, written in bubbled, cartoon letters behind his eyes as he frowned toward the light, which he could tell was already going to be too bright. He cursed his former self for not closing the curtains before he’d fallen asleep and rolled away from the window. Worse things than a hangover, he told himself, keeping his eyes closed. It explained the headache, the sensitivity to light and the way it sounded like he could hear his own blood roaring through his veins. He shoved an arm beneath the neighboring pillow and curled himself loosely around the soft, warm body of his sleeping bedmate. Nothing to do but sleep it off and hope it didn’t linger too long.

_You don’t get hangovers._

Steve’s eyes opened then. The realization was enough to shove him off the cliff into consciousness as the world came screeching into focus and he found himself staring at a pile of dark brown curls against a stark white pillowcase.

_You don’t have white sheets._

There was some manner of self-preservation in the way his brain was picking and choosing these reminders. Focusing on other, less important inconsistencies to keep him from panicking about the person on the other side of these long, dark curls that smelled like oranges. Steve turned his head slowly for a cursory look around the room. His heart sank as each detail he noticed—each piece of furniture and art hanging on the walls hammered a new nail in the coffin of realization that this was not his room. 

Not his room. Not his bed. Not his—  
There was a sound like a short hum from his left and Steve looked back to find his bedmate—the one who most assuredly was not _his_ in any lasting sense of the word—shift suddenly and roll to her back. 

_Shit_.

He froze and felt his face wrinkle in a wince as he waited for Darcy Lewis—UN/Avengers Liaison, doted-upon-adopted-sister of Thor, and object of most of his less-than-respectful fantasies since he’d met her a year ago—to open her eyes and shatter the what hope he was clinging to that this might all just be a dream. 

She didn’t open her eyes, though. Her brows dipped together slightly, and her full lips pouted into a brief frown before her face relaxed again. Steve let out the breath he’d been holding and carefully removed his arm from beneath her, taking every care to get out of bed as quickly and silently as possible. 

Finding out that he was naked was not surprising, but still not the greatest ingredient added to this mess. He found his pants with relative ease—tried not to think too hard about why they were closer to the door than the bed—and passed a large window on his way to what he hoped was the bathroom. The view offered little in the way of clues to his location: a dense patch of evergreens, and a thick blanket of snow. He squinted in the bright morning light and looked as far as he could in one direction and then the other but could see nothing that looked like a landmark. Nothing that oriented him. Disheartened, he located the bathroom, where he turned on the light and leaned hard on the counter. 

“Okay,” he said to himself as he turned the water on. “Where are you and how did you get here?” He looked around the spacious bathroom for a hint. Standard fixtures like what were in his own bathroom at the compound. Only instead of just a stall shower, this room was equipped with a deep bathtub as well. He splashed some water on his face and reached blindly for the nearest hand towel. The towels were white and fluffy—like the ones he used every day. He frowned and rubbed the material between his fingers. Was he still on the compound? His frown deepened. Had he _been_ on the compound?

 _Yes!_ The answer exploded like a firecracker in his mind and he seized the faintest hint of a memory that might explain his current situation. He had been on the compound last night because it was New Year’s Eve and the whole common area had been full of people and food and music for what he’d been told was going to be an annual party. Memories were fuzzy and coming to him in flashes he desperately tried to hold onto.

_Darcy was clear across the room when he noticed her the first time. She was standing between Clint and Laura, her nose wrinkled and wide, bright smile fully on display as they tried teaching her proper dart-throwing technique. He watched, amused, as she tried unsuccessfully to land a target closer than the outer ring of the dart board. The dress she wore was black, simple and unadorned except for the slit in the side that went nearly all the way up to her hip. It offered him an unobstructed view of creamy white thigh and glittering, silver heels and made him wonder how soft her skin would be if he ever got the chance to touch her._

Steve stared at himself in the mirror. Once he got past the unfamiliar dark circles beneath his eyes—an indication that he hadn’t been asleep as long as he’d thought, he sighed internally—and the five o’clock shadow that scraped over his palm as he ran a hand along his chin, Steve dropped his eyes to his chest. There was a red smear on his collarbone. He studied it curiously before he found another on his stomach. Cautiously, praying it wasn’t dried blood—honestly, he had _enough_ to sort through—Steve swiped his thumb across the mark on his stomach. It smeared against his skin and he felt a fleeting sense of relief. Dried blood didn’t do that. Dried blood stayed put. So, this wasn’t dried blood, he told himself, bringing his now red-stained thumb up for inspection. This was lipstick. 

_Darcy’s red lipstick blotted the cocktail napkin she had clutched between her fingers. In her other hand, Steve saw she held a half-eaten chocolate-covered strawberry. She set both on the bar beside him before she tucked her hair behind one ear and smiled at him. “Season’s greetings, Captain Rogers.”_

_He’d smiled back and reminded himself to at least try to be cool as she turned from the bar and leaned against it, mirroring his stance. “Miss Lewis,” he’d given her a nod._

_Darcy shook her head fondly. “Come on, Cap,” her hair had tumbled back over her shoulder when she looked up at him. “It’s New Year’s Eve—do we have to be so formal?_

_He’d shrugged. “You started it.”_

_She considered this for a second. “Okay…_ Steve _,” she said with a heavy emphasis that made his mouth run dry before she went on. “How are you enjoying the holiday festivities?”_

_“Uh…” he blanked for a moment. “They’re…not bad,” he decided. “Considering I didn’t know we were having a party until about ten minutes before people started showing up.”_

_She grinned again. “I’m glad you decided not to bail,” she reached for her strawberry and took another tiny bite from the side before she continued. “Parties are a gamble. I always worry there’s not going to be a guy hanging out at the bar looking like he’d literally rather be jumping out of a plane but,” she swiped the edge of her thumb along her lower lip, capturing a drop of strawberry juice, “here you are! Party complete.”_

_If her assessment had come from someone else, he might have bristled. But she was still smiling at him. Her eyes still twinkled, letting him know she was only teasing, and he wasn’t anywhere close to annoyed. “Well, to be fair,” he’d leaned down a little closer as if sharing a secret. “When you’re jumping out of a plane, you have a pretty good idea of how long it’s going to last.”_

_Darcy laughed. “Come on, there’s gotta be something I can do to convince you to have a good time.”_

_“Let me get you a drink,” he’d suggested, noticing she didn’t have one already. She looked a little hot and sweaty, flushed from the way she’d been dancing with Jane and Sharon in the minutes before she’d come over to talk to him. “You look thirsty.”_

_Her dark eyebrows lifted in surprise and she smiled wider. “And here I was thinking I was playing it cool.”_

“Let me get you a drink,” Steve repeated under his breath, trying to jog his own memory. “You look thirsty…” he looked at himself again in the mirror expectantly. “And then…?” Nothing. “What was the next question? ‘Can I interest you in a mouthful of my cock?’”

A sound from the other side of the door made him freeze again. 

A snort. A barely suppressed giggle. Darcy was awake. 

Quickly, he hashed out a list of pros and cons. Pros: if Darcy was awake and giggling about something, she wasn’t completely horrified and repulsed by the overwhelming evidence of what had transpired. It also meant he had someone with whom he could compare notes—someone who could shed some light on his hangover and the blind spots in his memory. 

Cons—Steve frowned again—he could no longer hide in the bathroom sorting everything out. And likely the thing she was laughing about was having overheard him. Talking to himself. About her.

He scrubbed his hands over his face again and took a deep, steadying breath.   
She was sitting up in bed by the time he psyched himself up to open the door. Her tousled curls fell over her shoulders and into her face when she looked up from buttoning his shirt. Her makeup was still mostly in place, though her lips only wore the stain from the color she’d worn the night before.

Steve found himself stuck in place when her eyes met his, suddenly hyperaware of every part of his body, painfully uncertain of what to do with his hands or the rest of himself. “Uh, hi,” he said, the moment before he found sweet salvation in the form of leaning against the dresser. 

Darcy’s cheeks flushed pink as she bit her lip. “Hi.” She glanced down again. “Hope you don’t mind,” she tugged at the buttons she’d just fastened. “My dress is kind of…” she coughed. “Out of commission.”

Confused, Steve followed where her eyes had fallen to the pile of black material on the floor by his feet. Hesitantly, he bent and picked it up; his eyes widened as he realized what she meant by out of commission. The slit he’d admired earlier had been ripped the rest of the way up to the neckline, leaving the dress an open swath of fabric, completely useless and ruined. He felt the tops of his ears redden. “I’m…uh…sorry. I don’t…” he frowned and glanced down. “Did I do that?” 

When he looked up, a little line of concern had appeared between her eyebrows. “Oh…” she tilted her head to one side. “Do you not…remember?” 

Steve grimaced and set the dress behind him before he made himself stand back up to sit on the edge of the bed. “No,” he confessed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I don’t. I don’t remember anything after…” he let out a heavy breath and shrugged. “I don’t know—I guess after that drink we had?” 

“I thought you couldn’t get drunk,” she said carefully. “Isn’t that part of your whole…thing?”

“Uh, yeah, usually,” he answered, shifting uncomfortably. “I can’t even remember what we were drinking.”

She moved her shoulder. “Whatever Fandral was pouring, if I recall.”

“Fandral?”

“Thor’s friend,” she supplied. “He was behind the bar? Gave us…” she moved her shoulder. “Whatever it was. I thought it was mulled wine.” She studied him closer. “None of this is ringing a bell?”

“Not really,” he admitted, sheepishly, although even hearing that little slice of the story made him feel better. If it whatever he’d been drinking was Asgardian, then his blackout made a little more sense. The last time he’d come even close to drunk was from whatever Thor had poured into his glass the night they’d first met Ultron. He glanced back over and offered a hopeful look. “Feel like filling me in on what happened after that?”

Darcy blanched. “I have no idea. I was hoping you were going to fill _me_ in.”

He blinked. “You don’t remember either?”

She shook her head. “No, I mean, I remember going to the party and flirting shamelessly with you,” she didn’t blush when she said that, just offered him a brief half-smile before she continued. “Then…uh…we had a drink. Or—” she frowned down at her disheveled appearance, “likely more than one. And then…” she motioned around the room. The desk that had been swept clean of its contents. His silk tie and her glittering heels strewn across the floor. The black lace bra hanging from the corner of the mirror. “Well, there seems to be a pretty clear indication as to what happened after we came back here.” 

Steve leaned forward and let his head fall into his hands. “Christ, Darcy, I’m so sorry.” He heard a rustling to his right and looked up again. 

Darcy had turned red and, with wide eyes had started shuffling around to get to her feet. “Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly. “That’ll teach us both to mess around with the Asgardian stuff, right?” She stood up and shoved her hair back. “I’ll um,” her eyes darted around the room, landing anywhere but on him. “I’ll just…get out of your way then.”

“Wait,” he stood up and dropped a hand to her shoulder to stop her as she picked up the remnants of her dress. “I didn’t—” he stopped and started again. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She turned back to him and raised her eyebrows. “Like…a morning after brush off?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard and took another steadying inhale. “That’s not what I meant. I mean I’m sorry that I—” he stopped and tried again. “This isn’t—” He dropped his shoulders and raked a hand through his hair. “Darcy,” he sighed. “I like you, okay? I really, really like you and this is not even remotely how I had hoped to tell you that—or in all the times I thought about any of this,” he motioned to the room, “happening, it was not thanks to getting drunk at a party that neither of us can remember so,” he moved a shoulder. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Because this is just all wrong and—” 

He had more to say, more of an apology to stumble through, but he didn’t get a chance. Because Darcy rose up on her tiptoes and pulled him down to crush his lips to hers. For the first time since he’d woken up, Steve’s mind went quiet and all his attention narrowed to what was right in front of him. Darcy’s lips were soft and full and pliant beneath his, her body was warm and fit perfectly against him, and her long nails sank into his hair and scraped his scalp, sending a ripple of goosebumps down his arms. 

She pulled back and let her fingers slide from his hair down to rest on his chest. “I like you too, Steve,” she said softly. “Really, really like you.”

He blinked, finding himself at a loss for words. “Oh.”

"Yeah," she smiled. "Oh."

"So you're not..." he glanced around. "Mortified? Or thinking that I took advantage of you?"

"Nope," she shook her head before she rushed on. "I mean, _this_ whole situation is ridiculous," she motioned to the room around them. "And frankly, it's a Greek tragedy that I can't remember having sex with you--"

"Well, let's not get carried away," Steve said with a lighter feeling in his chest. "We don't actually know what happened last night. You may be vastly overselling it." She laughed softly, urging him to continue. "But, honestly, Darcy, I feel really bad--" 

"Don't," she insisted. "I'm absolving us both," she waved her hand like a priest giving a blessing. "Because if anything, we took advantage of each other. And maybe this isn’t like, romcom level of first date cuteness but,” she continued with a shrug. “Since when does anything in either of our lives go according to plan? I like you, you like me, I can roll with the rest if you can.”

He felt the beginnings of a smile play on his lips and he let his hands fall to her hips, keeping her close to him. “I…think I can handle that,” he decided.

“Good,” she nodded once. “Because we’re actually in a pretty sweet spot, all things considered.”

“How so?”

“We just plowed through so much awkwardness and weirdness about whether or not we’re going to have sex and have nearly survived the first potentially awkward morning after. All in like,” she glanced behind her at the clock beside the bed, “ten minutes. We’re already killing it.” 

His smile widened. “I like the way you think about things.”

“Speaking of,” she tilted her head to one side again and bit back a smile. “All the times you thought about this happening, huh?” Her eyebrows lifted with interest.

The tips of his ears burned again, and he shook his head. “It would be ungentlemanly for me to elaborate on that.” 

Darcy grinned. “Well, if it helps ease your gentlemanly instincts, I’m pretty sure I had a good time last night.”

“What makes you say that?”

She rose up on her toes again, her arms going around his neck. “Because I was with you,” she said simply, pausing before her lips met his a second time. “And if you think you’re the only one who’s thought about what this might be like, you’d be wrong.” Steve’s head felt light with relief and a level of giddiness he’d thought was previously only reserved for little girls under the age of ten. He couldn’t help the smile on his lips when Darcy dropped him one last, quick kiss before she sank back down to her heels. She smiled up at him through long eyelashes. “So, just out of curiosity,” she began conversationally as she took his hand and brought him back to sit on the bed next to her. “If we hadn’t blacked out on Asgardian wine last night…"

“Uh-huh…”

“And you’d just been able to ask me out without…y’know…shredding my dress and us ending up sharing an outfit,” she rubbed her fingers over the top button of his shirt. “What do you think you would have said?”

Steve exhaled and shook off the nerves that had cropped up unexpectedly. There was nothing to be nervous about, he reminded himself, as he glanced down at Darcy’s fingers entangled with his. “I…probably would have mumbled my way through asking if you wanted to have a cup of coffee with me. Unless I talked myself out of it first.”

Darcy wet her lips and nodded thoughtfully. “Could I suggest an improvement to that idea?”

He laughed softly. “Of course.”

“We add in breakfast with that cup of coffee? Because Asgardian or not, a hangover’s a hangover and this girl needs to eat something,” she pointed to herself. 

“I’m in full support of that idea,” he said with a quick nod. “But I’m foreseeing a few slight problems.” 

“Ruh-roh,” she said with a quick frown. “What are they?”

“The biggest one being that I don’t know where we are, and I don’t know how we got here—so I’m not sure how we’d acquire said breakfast.”

Darcy snorted another laugh and shook her head. “We’re in one of the guest cabins at the compound,” she said patiently. “This is my room.”

He frowned. “Really?”

She studied him for a long moment before her smile widened. “You didn’t know we had guest cabins at the compound, did you?”

“No, I…knew that,” he fumbled. Because he had known that. At some point. When he’d first moved in and was given a tour of the whole property. Tony had told him about them, at least. Set far enough away from the main complex itself to give any visiting guests peace and quiet away from the daily noise of ships, jets, and helicopters landing and taking off, running drills and weapons testing. He glanced around the room again. “But why isn’t any of your stuff here?”

“It’s still in my car,” she laughed. “I was going to haul everything in after the party last night until somebody changed my plans.” She looked at him for another beat before she shook her head a second time. “I can’t believe you put figuring out what happened with me ahead of figuring out where you were on your list of priorities.”

Steve smiled, sheepish again. “I’d put figuring things out with you ahead of a lot of things on my list of priorities.”

Darcy leaned over and kissed him again. “What other problems can I solve for you before we get this breakfast date going?”

“Well, this being your room takes care of you not having anything to wear,” he acknowledged. “So that just leaves the fact that it’s New Year’s Day and I’m pretty sure the only breakfast place in town is closed.”

“Valid point,” she considered this with a nod. “But given that we’re still well within the confines of the compound, I could just order us some breakfast from the AI and one of the drones will drop it off.” She bit her lip and looked remarkably shy for a moment. “Would you mind having breakfast in bed with me?”

He felt his smile widen. “I can’t think of a better way to start a new year,” he said firmly.

She giggled. “Until you said something, I completely forgot what day it is. Would you be okay if I request some champagne with our breakfast? Good, old fashioned Earth champagne,” she added quickly. “Since neither of us can remember if we had any last night.”

“Good, old fashioned Earth champagne sounds great,” he agreed. “Why don’t you take care of breakfast and I’ll go get your stuff from your car since you’re,” he glanced down at her naked legs and bare feet with a grin, “not exactly dressed for a walk in the snow.” 

Another giggle. Steve wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted to hear another sound more. “Are you going to want your shirt back?”

“Eventually,” he said. “I’ll probably need it.”

"I mean right now,” she laughed. “My car is just outside.”

“I think I can handle a few feet in the cold,” he said. “And if you start unbuttoning buttons,” he added, leaning over to kiss her again, “I’m not going to be able to leave.”

By the time he returned with the suitcase he’d pulled from the back seat of her messy car, Darcy had ordered a little of everything that the kitchen bots could prepare and send over. And over a glass of good, old fashioned Earth champagne, she kissed him again and smiled against his lips. “Happy New Year, Steve,” she said softly. 

As far as he was concerned, there was no better way to start a new year. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone's new year starts off with unexpected romance and breakfast in bed. 
> 
> Happy 2020!


End file.
